No response at first, none at all, and she feared the ruse would fail. She stole a look over her shoulder at Orle, who lay sprawled artfully in the center of the floor, her hair and clothing disarrayed and looking satisfyingly unwell, the picture aided by the livid bruise coloring her cheek.
“Oh, by all the powers, send a healer! Will you be responsible for the death of an innocent young—”
The door rattled harder and Darlei heard the bar lift from outside. The panel swung open to reveal the incredulous face of a guard.
Darlei imagined he spent much of his time bored to the bones, stationed outside a chamber where nothing very much happened. She had never before done this, cried out or made a fuss. He did not look above twenty or so, and at the moment did not appear to know what to do.
“Wha’ is it?”
“My maid is ill. I think she is dying. Yon Roisin struck her, and she hit her head when she fell, so. Is there a healer in the house?”
“I dunna ken.” The guard stared at Orle, who appeared not only helpless but quite pretty in her distress, her skirtsdisordered and her dark hair streaming across the floor. “Go back inside,” he said, for Darlei had pushed out against him. “I will ask the chief.”
Darlei ordered herself to be calm. To appear sane and rational. But the door was open and her inner wild woman had come alive inside her.
“Nay, we must get her to help at once. You carry her.”
“Eh?” He looked astounded.
“Pick her up and carry her. We will go in search of help.”
“But—”
“I command you.”
He danced from one foot to another, staring first at Orle and then at Darlei. Outside the slit window, the rain pounded so hard, Darlei could barely hear her own thoughts.
“Take her to Mistress Roisin,” Darlei urged. “She will know what to do.”
“Aye so.”
He tiptoed into the room, which lay as disordered as the dwelling of two women with very few possessions could be. Gingerly, and with unexpected gentleness, he bent and gathered Orle into his arms.
“Come,” Darlei told him, and stepped from the room.
Her thoughts moved madly. It must be nearly time for supper. She would likely have been allowed out for that anyway. But it was not enough forherto escape the room—Orle must also be freed. Usually, as Darlei had learned, MacNabh was not in the hall at this time of day. He often only came in to join the women in time for the meal.
The rain might change everything.
Why had she not thought of that? Curse the rain.
She ran down the steps from the upper corridor and into the hall. Her heart leaped sickeningly when she saw that the place was filled mostly with smoke from the eternally ill-burning fire.No other men at arms, no MacNabh. Just his old mother and Roisin.
Both women looked up sharply when Darlei dashed in, waving her arms and with the guard cradling Orle close behind.
“She is dying! You have killed her. You horrible woman.” She ran directly at Roisin—who half started up from her bench at the table—planted both hands at the woman’s half-bared bosom, and pushed.
Roisin went over backward and confusion immediately reigned. Darlei got in what blows she could before Roisin might struggle up. The old woman instantly began to screech and babble. The guard, behind Darlei, cried out.
“Stop that. Stop it now!”
Where was MacNabh? Not here, and that must do for now. But he could come rushing in at any moment in answer to the old woman’s screeching. If he did, Darlei’s attempt was done.
Please, she begged of any powers able to lend an ear.Keep him occupied elsewhere.
Roisin, who outweighed Darlei by half, fought to push her off.
“Ye wretched savage! Get awa’ fro’ me.”
